Chapter Twelve

Luke's dreams were persistent. The Force vision which had first appeared to him during meditation in the Jedi Museum teased him with glimpses of insight. The master and the child; the latter uncertain and wary, the former confident, with guiding words. Glimpses of lightsaber training, not unlike what he had offered Mara a few days before; glimpses of camaraderie. Is it just meant as an example of quality training? Is the Force teaching me how to teach? Or is there another message in it, one I'm not seeing yet?

There was a sense of familiarity to it, as if he should know what it was he was seeing. Luke suspected that a Jedi more attuned to the spiritual side, like Yoda, might have had the insight necessary to put the pieces together, or to draw more pieces out from what the Force offered, but Luke still couldn't quite get there. Whatever it was, this was the third time he'd caught glimpses of the student and master, the twinned blue lightsabers that each carried, and the careful lightsaber katas that the younger was learning. Words like grace and mindfulness hovered at the edges of Luke's sensation; calm and focused.

He rubbed his face and checked his chrono. The first hints of sun were starting to come through the transparisteel windows of his apartment in the Imperial Palace. He pulled the blinds open and looked out over the busy city, the jungle of towering buildings and the busy air traffic; the spaceships descending and ascending in good order. It was early for him to be awake, but not that early; between his early life on Tatooine and the urge to take advantage of the most pleasant hours of the Tatooine day, and the many years in the Rebellion that called for quick wakefulness, Luke had never been one to sleep in long past dawn.

There was a mechanical whirring, and Artoo trundled into the room and whistled a greeting.

"Good morning, Artoo," Luke replied with a smile. "Is the X-wing all ready to go?"

The droid whistled an affirmative, then an elaboration that sent Luke grappling for his translator. He could understand Artoo well enough for simple things, but when it got complicated the translator helped.

"Karrde has stashed the X-wing in the Wild Karrde's cargo hold?" Luke read aloud. "And you've moved most of my travel gear down to the hangar." He nodded at Artoo. "Thanks, buddy," he said, patting Artoo's dome. "You're not worried about traveling with Karrde again?"

Artoo blatted dismissively at him.

Luke read the translation of the response and laughed. "Karrde's a good guy now? What makes you so sure?"

Artoo whistled, his dome spinning.

"Because he likes us?" Luke smiled, thinking back to Karrde and Mara's attendance at Leia's for dinner. "I suppose he does at that," Luke replied, his smile softening.

Artoo's dome turned towards him, and the droid peered at him with his one large mechanical eye. The droid warbled softly, a knowing and semi-amused sound that the translator said had no direct translation into basic.

"What?" Luke asked with a laugh as he fetched his Jedi blacks and set them out to change into after his sonic shower.

The droid cackled with electronic laughter, his dome spinning, then all three of his wheels set down on the floor. Artoo whistled a farewell and rolled towards the door, dragging the last of Luke's bags behind him.

Luke peered at the translator, but it wasn't any help. He shook his head with some bemusement. Artoo could be enigmatic at times, and this was one of those times apparently.

He made quick use of the sonic shower and dressed, then hesitated as he considered breakfast options. You could call Mara, his mind whispered, but Luke immediately decided not to do that, no matter how tempting it was. If he woke her just because of his desire for her company, she might hold a grudge—and he already knew she could hold grudges for a long, long time. Besides, he reminded himself, she's not that far removed from hating you.

However, not sharing her company didn't mean he couldn't enjoy their favorite breakfast locale.

It was a quick airspeeder trip from his apartment in the palace to the Adarian Building. The servers recognized him (that was impossible to avoid absent a disguise or liberal Force use, neither of which appealed to him), but one of the reasons why the Adarian Building had become his favorite since Mara introduced him to it was the staff's professionalism. Yes, he was Jedi Luke Skywalker, but this establishment was used to serving dignitaries of all kinds and its servers went out of their way not to make a scene, which he appreciated.

They sat him near the window, overlooking the Senate Building, as always cast in the shadow of the Imperial Palace at this hour.

His Force sense alerted him to her presence before anything else. A familiar mind, wary but resolved, gleaming in the Force like a beacon. His ability to sense her had grown, he realized; there were a handful of presences he could recognize instantly, even at a distance, and Mara's was as identifiably brilliant as Leia's. Was that because of her increased strength in the Force? Or simply because they had spent so much time together of late?

Mara talked to the maitre'd, who obviously recognized her, and then was allowed to make her way towards him. She pulled out the chair across from him and settled into it, her expression oddly neutral. The sensation of nervousness and resolve persisted, though he could feel her trying to shield it.

"Good morning," he greeted her softly. Behind him, the morning sun cast light over them both; her red-gold hair gleamed gold.

"Good morning," she replied. She looked slightly disheveled, he noticed; as if she'd either been up late the night before or woken up early that morning. His mind flicked back to the forest on Myrkr, and her steadily deteriorating state as she had refused to sleep night after night.

But she didn't look anywhere near that tired this morning, and there was no hate in her eyes.

"Artoo has moved my X-wing to the Wild Karrde. Last I saw him he was dragging my bag to the hangar."

Mara smiled, her lips softening. "You're not overworking him, are you?"

"Concerned for my droid's welfare?" Luke relaxed back into his chair, a smile blossoming on his face. "That's a new attitude."

"In hindsight he was less trouble on Myrkr than you were," she mused. She pointed a finger at him mock-accusingly. "He wasn't the one who crashed that Skipray."

Luke chuckled. "Guilty as charged. But, in my defense, I was being chased at the time."

Mara smirked. "It's all my fault then is it? Don't forget, I saved your life in the first place."

"I haven't," Luke replied softly, letting his gratitude touch his Force sense. He could tell the moment she felt it, the tightening of her lips, then the reluctant acceptance of the emotion. She wasn't going to say it out loud, not then, perhaps not ever, but the returning sense of gratefulness was more revealing than any words could have been.

The banter came to an abrupt halt as time seemed to slow to a crawl.

He was pretty sure Mara felt it too; he could sense the trepidation in her emotions, a quiver of uncertainty in her Force sense. She responded to it more decisively than he did—by pulling an item out of one of her pockets and placing it down in the middle of the table.

Luke furrowed his brow as he picked it up. He turned the object over in his hands, recognizing it immediately. "A blaster scope?" He peered at her over the object, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "You know I told you I don't carry my blaster anymore."

Mara wagged a finger at him. "And I told you that you should," she replied firmly. "If you don't, that—" she pointed at the scope "—will go to waste, and I spent all night looking for the right one for a DL-44."

"I didn't even pack it," Luke pointed out, but the corner of his mouth curled. All night?

She smirked smugly at him. "Yes, you did," she assured him. "I told your droid to pack it for you."

Artoo's teasing earlier suddenly made a lot more sense.

Mara reached out to pluck the scope from him. "If what you said about the modifications you and Han made to your blaster are true," she peered at him through the scope, "this should let you take full advantage of your range modifications, and should serve as a good replacement for your bulky macrobinoculars." She handed it back. "And it comes with night vision and infra-red, not to mention image enhancement." Her hand lingered over the scope. "It wasn't cheap," she added pointedly.

He laughed and nudged her hand reluctantly away then closed his hand over the scope. He tucked it into one of the pockets of his tunic. "You've made your point," he relented wryly. "I'll bring the blaster."

Mara looked very self-satisfied. "You're right, you will. Also, you're paying for breakfast." She yawned and offered him a tired smile.

Luke suddenly didn't want to leave Coruscant. Leaving Coruscant seemed like a horrible idea.

Mara quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?" she asked.

He debated the wisdom of saying the words only after they'd already slipped out. "I'm going to miss you, Mara" he said almost apologetically, his voice clinging to her name.

Mara laughed in surprise. He could feel her astonishment, and her disbelief—and her inadequately hidden reciprocation of the sentiment. "You're going to miss me? I wanted to kill you, Skywalker."

"But you didn't," he replied, his voice firm and reassuring, "and I'm still in one piece."

"Yeah, well, you better stay that way," Mara countered firmly. "I'd hate to have bought that electro-scope for nothing."

"I'll be careful," he reassured her.

She hesitated, then nodded. He could sense her awkward concern and a not insignificant amount of something he'd describe as... nervousness... in anyone else.

Protectiveness?

He could feel her push past the moment firmly, refusing to linger over it. "Well, since you're going to be traveling with Karrde, I should warn you about the crew," she said. "They may not knock you out and lock you up again, but I guarantee they'll try to prank you. Aves is gone, so let's start with Dankin…"

The freighter that Fliry Vorru and his entourage were traveling in had worn many names over its long history. It seemed that the ship's original name had been the Lefler's Rose, given the long-since worn over engraving on the bulkhead in the lounge, but there was a dizzying array of false IDs stashed in one of the ship's hidden compartments. They weren't using any of them, of course; Eliezer had worked up a new one (and a fake flight plan, and a series of fake HoloNet transmissions that would 'prove' the flight plan was real in the event anyone thought to check).

Vorru had forgotten how prolific the Drall could be. The freighter's cover established, he was now working on their individual cover IDs, complete with disguises, electronic records for both planetary citizenship and banking, and sufficient personal histories to fool a background check. And he'd managed to nearly beat Vorru in dejarik. Twice.

"You realize you're going to have to ask him sooner or later," Eliezer said without looking up. "I can't finalize his disguise or his personal history until I see his face, and it certainly isn't wise for him to wander around Coruscant with that mask on. It's too identifiable." He did glance up now, but only for a moment. "I suppose we can find him a suit of Mandalorian armor, that's just barely common enough that I can whip something together, but it won't stand up to too much scrutiny."

The Tevas-kaar had, so far, not removed either his armor or his helm. In fact, Vorru and Eliezer had seen almost nothing of him since they'd come aboard the Lefler's Rose. He'd simply closed himself away in one of the guest rooms and vanished, emerging only to use the refresher or fetch one of the freeze-dried flash-meals that their pilot laughingly called "food."

"Tavira didn't say much about him," he admitted. "I know he's sworn to her service and she has no qualms about his personal loyalty, but who he is, where he's from, the extent of his skills… she said that he'd be able to handle anything we threw at him, short of maybe Luke Skywalker himself."

"You haven't seen him in action," Eliezer waved a datacard at him, and Vorru reached out and took it. It was his cover's backstory and picture. He was going to need to change his hair… "I have. He never flinched while we escaped, dealt with every threat we ran into in seconds."

"I have seen him in action, actually," Vorru replied. "Although only briefly, on Kessel. He was impressive. And if we're not careful he may have to deal with Luke Skywalker, my understanding is that he's living on Coruscant and helping organize the New Republic government."

Eliezer scoffed, shaking his head and tsking softly. His beady eyes focused on his computer and his claws clacked away on the keyboard. "Republic government. It's a contradiction in terms," the Drall muttered, his words (and bitter tone) echoing dozens of discussions they'd had over the years, dating back decades. Eliezer was no fan of the Empire—it's rabid anti-alien bias had seen to that—but he'd always maintained that the Empire (or something like it) had been inevitable for centuries. "If that is the case, then it's even more important that we have airtight false identities," the Drall continued. "I assume a run in with a Jedi is not in our intended plans."

"Assuredly not," Vorru replied firmly. "Actually, if at all possible, I'd very much rather not come to blows with anyone while we're on Coruscant."

Eliezer's beady eyes fixed him with a stare. "I don't believe that any more than you do," he countered. "Do you really think that Black Sun is going to roll over and let you take over its operations without so much as a fight?"

"If the ruling Vigos are wise, yes. If not…" Vorru shrugged. "I did say I'd rather it not come to that, not that I believed it wouldn't."

"Hmm," Eliezer hummed disbelievingly, then coughed. The Drall hunched over, coughing, then leaned back in his chair and pounded his chest as he recovered. "I'm getting old," he muttered dourly, stroking his claws over his fur to smooth it, then going back to work.

Vorru chuckled softly. "We got old long ago."

"Hush. I know that," Eliezer muttered without looking up. "I'm trying to pretend it's not true." He coughed, his snout wrinkling with annoyance. "Rather unsuccessfully, I'm afraid."

Vorru turned his mind again to the problem of the Tevas-kaar. He wondered idly if Grand Moff Tarkin had ever had this kind of problem with Lord Vader. Probably not; Vorru was under the impression that Vader had been unable to remove his armor for reasons of health, The Tevas-kaar's armor was not heavy enough to be used for that purpose, which meant that it was meant for intimidation and defense—and, perhaps, anonymity.

He wished he'd been able to elicit more information from Tavira about where she'd found him and the exact nature of her hold over him, but the would-be Pirate Queen was ruthless in her refusal to discuss it, saying only that his loyalty was "absolute" and that the Tevas-kaar could be relied upon without question. Unfortunately, Vorru had only Tavira's word for that, and he knew better than to trust her word alone. Even more unfortunately, he needed the Tevas-kaar for what would come next. He needed his own Vader to smash and intimidate his enemies, at least long enough to establish his dominance. Once his dominance was secure, he could turn them against one another and rule by division, but until then he needed the unquestioning, unstoppable hammer.

The Tevas-kaar had proved he could do it on Kessel, at least on a small scale. Vorru had no idea if he could or would do it on the larger scale that he would require on Coruscant. But that was all right. One did not become Moff of Corellia without accepting a certain degree of risk.

Vorru exited the lounge and headed down the curved interior corridor until he found the Tevas-kaar's chosen quarters. He rapped on the door. There was no response, so he knocked on it a second time.

The door opened and he found himself standing in the Tevas-kaar's gleaming bronze shadow, brown eyes peering down at him through the eyes of the white d'oemir bear mask. Vorru refused to start, and he refused to be cowed by the difference in their heights. I've been short all my life and never let it stop me before. "Tevas-kaar."

"Moff Vorru," the Tevas-kaar replied with his resonant voice. "We have not yet arrived on Coruscant. Do you require something?"

"I do," Vorru nodded. "Eliezer is preparing our identities for arrival on Coruscant. I'm afraid he cannot complete the process unless he has more information about," he nodded up at the much taller man, "you and your appearance. Unfortunately, if you attempt to go through Coruscant security wearing your armor and mask, you will… create a bit of a stir."

There was a certain stiffness to the Tevas-kaar's utter lack of motion. Then his large, bronzed shoulders heaved with a sigh. "Very well," he agreed grudgingly. "If it is absolutely necessary."

Vorru led him carefully back towards the freighter's lounge, where Eliezer was still hard at work. The Drall could work and work and work, with the kind of unerring focus that no human could match. "I'm afraid we'll need a holo of your appearance," Vorru said, adding as much apology to his tone as he could. This is a Force user, he reminded himself. He'll know if you're not being genuine.

There was a moment's hesitation from the tall figure, then he reached to the sides of his head and unbuckled his mask. He removed it slowly, holding it in one hand, then pushed back the coiled helm.

His hair was shock-white, the kind of white hair that would have been the envy of many an Imperial aristocrat, cut in a close buzz. His visage was not so aged as an aristocrat's, however, but his skin was leathery, with a lined, boxy face and wide square jaw covered with a light layer of almost invisible stubble.

Eliezer hobbled out of his chair and used a holo-imager to take a few holos. The Tevas-kaar watched him with a void expression, the corner of his mouth tightening a bit. "Do you have a preference for your pseudonym?" Eliezer asked cautiously as he returned to his chair, lifting himself up into it and relaxing as his claws tapped on the computer keyboard.

"You can call me whatever would be appropriate," the Tevas-kaar replied. Vorru and Eliezer both watched him, but no more information was forthcoming.

Vorru sighed to himself silently. Working with the Tevas-kaar was going to be difficult if he insisted on acting more like a droid than a person. But he didn't have any obvious avenue for drawing the Tevas-kaar out of his social isolation, and pushing was as likely (probably more likely) to backfire as it was to succeed. It could wait. "I'm sure Eliezer will find something appropriate," he conceded.

Taking that as a dismissal, the Tevas-kaar departed again, already re-attaching his mask.

"Sociable," Eliezer said after the door was securely closed.

"I've known a few men like him over the years," Vorru said. "I wish Tavira had been more forthcoming about the terms of his service. Is he so taciturn because it is an obligation, or is it a personality trait?" Vorru sat across from Eliezer and rested his hands together on the table. "And how did he come by his Force training?"

"He was taught by a Jedi, of course," Eliezer said, peering at his screen as he put together the Tevas-kaar's identity packet. "Let's see… Rasmus Damask, from Corellia. That way you can do the talking for him, if it becomes necessary."

"A Jedi? Palpatine killed all the Jedi."

"I never believed that," Eliezer replied. "And clearly it can't have been true, with Luke Skywalker running around the galaxy now. Someone must have trained him. The Jedi were resourceful, surely some of them survived."

Vorru shook his head. "But why would a Jedi apprentice end up working with Leonia Tavira?"

Eliezer laughed, a sound which ended less enthusiastic than it started, with coughing and wincing. "Why would either of us end up working with Leonia Tavira?" he asked dryly.

That, Vorru thought, was a fair point.

The arrival in-system was done with pinpoint precision. The pilot Tavira had loaned them—the same man who had shuttled Vorru up from Kessel, and pulled the skillful landing during their rescue of Eliezer, coincidentally, for which Vorru was grateful—knew his business and knew how to play the part of a bored freighter captain. So well, in fact, that Vorru suspected that the man had at one point been just that.

"Coruscant Control, this is the freighter Puckish Allegory out of Corellia, requesting permission to land," the pilot said in a Talusan accent. "We're looking for a landing in Argosy District, if possible. We can wait." He thumbed off the ship's communicator, glancing back at Vorru. "Our identities will hold up going through customs?"

Vorru nodded confidently. "No need to be concerned about that." Even as they were speaking, Eliezer was accessing Coruscant's HoloNet node and ensuring that the customs computers would both expect and know them by the time they were landing.

The pilot did not look so certain, but he also didn't object. "You're the boss," he agreed, turning back to the freighter's controls. The comm clicked, and he thumbed it back on.

"Puckish Allegory, we can give you a landing berth in Argosy District," a brisk, female voice said over the comm. "We're transmitting berth information and your directed landing route to you now. Do not deviate from the path," she instructed them firmly.

"Confirmed, Coruscant Control," the pilot said back, again with his brisk accent. Vorru wondered idly if the man was adopting the Talusan accent as part of his identity because Eliezer had told him to, or if it was his own affectation. Either way, hearing it brought back fond memories—Talus was another of the Corellia system's many habitable worlds. "Glad you could serve us so quickly. Puckish Allegory making its approach."

The freighter stirred as the pilot accelerated towards Coruscant, the gleaming mass of endless city seeming to glow as they approached. There was a rustle and Vorru glanced back as the Tevas-kaar approached, his expression blank as he watched over Vorru's shoulder. He was wearing the civilian clothes they had procured for him, but he would still stand out in a crowd

Vorru almost turned away, but there was something about the Tevas-kaar's expression. His eyes tightened slightly, his lips firming together. His breathing slowed, and then his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists.

"Are you all right?" Vorru asked carefully.

The Tevas-kaar nodded. "Yes," he said, visibly relaxing, though his tension did not fully fade. "Adequate."

The Wild Karrde main cargo hold was sealed up, Luke's X-wing vanishing from sight within its confines. At the top of the ramp, Karrde and Mara were talking animatedly, and Karrde handed her a datapad—with final instructions for how to manage the Smugglers' Alliance in his absence, Luke guessed.

With the cargo hold sealed, the Wild Karrde's crew started heading aboard the ship, while the landing pad's ground crew performed the final checks.

Artoo whistled at him, and Luke laughed. "Yes, it's much friendlier than it was the first time they brought us aboard," Luke agreed. He patted the astromech's dome, whose head swirled to look up at him, then back at the bulk freighter.

Mara and Karrde had finished their conversation; Mara nodded at her boss and trotted down the ramp. She looked slightly better rested than she had at breakfast; Luke assumed that was a product of the two cups of expensive caf he'd paid for. He smiled at her as she approached; her brisk pace slowed as she neared him.

She stopped awkwardly, her lip twitching as neither of them spoke.

He wasn't sure what to say. Clearly, she wasn't either. He wondered if she'd let him hug her. He rather doubted it.

"I don't know how to do this," she said suddenly, her eyes resolutely looking away, even as her words were pitched both quiet and meant to be heard. "I'm not … used to having friends."

He reached out and took her hand. She let him, her fingers wrapping around his as she turned towards him, still not making eye contact. Her gaze flicked up to his, then away again, and in that moment he could see the uncertainty, the confusion, and most of all the deep loneliness. Her sense in the Force tightened as she felt his response, his cold rage at Palpatine, his protectiveness and empathy. His deep and profound care. "Mara…"

She squeezed his hand hard. "Take care of yourself, Skywalker," she whispered, and he heard the words she didn't say. I'll miss you, too.

He used their joined hands to turn her towards him until they were facing one another, peering down at her. He waited patiently until she tentatively looked up, her piercing green eyes laden with uncertainty. She knew what he was going to do before he did it, he could feel her tense but not pull away, and he wrapped his arms around her and brought her in against his chest.

He could feel the moment her muscles relaxed and she leaned into the embrace; could sense when her eyes shut as she accepted the display of physical affection. He suspected that she could count on one hand the number of times she had been hugged since Palpatine had ripped her away from her family, and he offered it to her freely.

It didn't linger for more than a few seconds. By mutual acclamation they parted, the embrace ending a few seconds before she released his hand.

He buried his emotion as deeply as he could, not because it wasn't real, or because he didn't want her to know it, but because he knew that she wasn't ready to hear it yet. Wasn't ready to accept it. Certainly wasn't ready to reciprocate it. But in that moment, torn between the desire to sing it to the heavens and hide it, or to bury it deep underground until the time was right to dig it up, Luke Skywalker knew one fact he hadn't yet admitted to himself when he'd woken up that morning.

I am in trouble. Despite the thought, Luke couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he strode up Wild Karrde's ramp with a spring in his step. I am in so, so much trouble.

Luke and Mara seemed to have forgotten that the bridge viewports of the Wild Karrde had a clear view of the hangar.

Talon Karrde turned and looked at his crew. Faughn, Dankin, and Chin each got a long gaze, one that lasted well after eye contact had been established. "If any of you," he started firmly, "mention this to Skywalker or especially to Mara, I will have you buried in a hole so deep it'll make the Spice Mines of Kessel look like a Chandrilan beach resort. After that I'll let Mara do whatever she wants to you. Are we clear?"

Faughn just nodded. Chin was wearing a silly little smile, but while the older man liked to needle, he knew when to push and when to keep his mouth shut. Dankin recoiled away from the firm certitude in Karrde's eyes. "Clear, Boss," he said.

Karrde let the silence linger to drive home his point.

Once he was quite sure there would be no misunderstandings, he nodded. "And, I'll add, that all the bets on them are already in. If you want to make a new bet, you'll have to ante up again. No last minute changes based on new information." There was a groan that echoed through the bridge, but it faded quickly at his raised eyebrow. He waited until it was entirely gone. "Good. Once the outer doors are sealed and Jedi Skywalker is belted in, take us up. Dankin, I want us on the quickest route to Rendili."

"Got it, Boss."

The Wild Karrde's engines hummed as the ship lifted up off the ground. Unlike the trip in, Dankin was at the helm, and Faughn was in the co-pilot's seat while also managing the ship's comm chatter with Coruscant Control. I'm going to need to hire another pilot to replace Mara, Karrde thought. There was regret in the thought, but more than that there was a calm acceptance, and even a bit of happiness.

Luke came through the door to the bridge and slid into one of the empty seats, and in response the Wild Karrde shuddered against gravity and began its climb towards orbit (much more slowly than its descent into Coruscant had been). "All settled?" Karrde asked him.

Luke nodded. "Ready," he agreed, and Karrde recognized the same tone of serious focus that he'd seen on the Jedi's face so many times since they'd met.

"Good," Karrde agreed. "Dankin, take us out if you would. Faughn, send my compliments to Coruscant Control."

Coruscant vanished, replaced by the planet's busy sky, lines of airspeeders in neat rows traveling through the city and spaceships rising and lowering from orbit. The Wild Karrde passed by one of the Skyhooks, gleaming brightly, and then started to pick up speed as it passed out of the busiest layers of the planetary orbit.

Karrde glanced at Luke, and found the Jedi staring out the window with a tight, uncertain expression on his face. "Everything all right?"

The Jedi shook himself, then shrugged. "Yes. I just thought I sensed something, but it's gone now." Luke relaxed into the chair.

"Well, I've learned to trust Jedi instincts," he replied, thinking more of Mara than Luke. "If there is anything wrong, please, do tell us."

"I will," Luke promised.

"In the meantime, there is something else that we should discuss." Karrde allowed his expression and tone to both become apologetic. "I'm afraid that there's going to be a slight delay before we arrive at Ukio. Before you become irritated with me, know that I discussed the delay with General Cracken and he agreed that it would be worth a few days to make a quick stop."

Luke swiveled his chair towards Karrde. In the background, Dankin announced the jump to hyperspace, and the familiar disorientation of the lightspeed jump clearly gave Luke a moment's pause.

Karrde wasn't really concerned about the Jedi's reaction. He couldn't say he knew Luke well, but Karrde trusted his ability to get a feel for personalities, and vengefulness, or even grudge-holding, were not likely to be consequences of this slight manipulation.

"I see," Luke replied calmly. "Perhaps you should explain the nature of this delay, then?" The corner of Luke's mouth quirked up. "Something less than respectable?"

"Oh, it most certainly is not respectable, but I'm quite sure that the New Republic will not object," Karrde corrected. "We're going to make a brief stop on Rendili. I need your help… with a theft." His lips firmed in a small, confident smirk. "If we are successful, what we will appropriate from the Empire should give General Bel Iblis everything that he needs to recapture Ukio."

"I see," Luke said again, thoughtfully. "You do realize that Rendili is Imperial-held, and after Corellia probably the most heavily guarded Imperial system in the Core?"

Karrde leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands together. "Oh yes. Of that, I am quite aware."